


And Lucky Makes Three

by atothej



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, First Meetings, Hospitals, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23322688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atothej/pseuds/atothej
Summary: Bucky's only at the ER to pick up Stevie because he's a good best friend, okay? Nowhere does it say in the Best Friend Rulebook that he's obligated to extend said friend-duties to Steve's newest strays. Nope. No way, no how. He's not getting roped into claiming responsibility for them as well. Definitely not.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 6
Kudos: 164





	And Lucky Makes Three

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to tumblr as a prompt fill.
> 
>  **Anonymous:** _Our favourite disaster boys and the ER AU, I forgot the number x_

Bucky stomps down the hallways of the hospital, a man on a mission. 

He dodges around a family wavering at a fork in the halls to squabble over the directional signs, avoids the elevator bank entirely, and cuts around to the back way into the emergency department because the front’s right next to the hospital’s Starbucks and the line always snakes out into the way of visitors.

At this point in his life, Bucky’s intimately familiar with all the local area hospitals and their labyrinthine layouts, able to navigate them with ease and expertise, and it’s _all Steve’s fault_.

Case in point, when he makes it up to the nurses’ station in the emergency department, the nurse there (her name is Sharon, which _he shouldn’t know_ but Steve’s been to this particular ward three times already in the last six months) doesn’t even ask what he’s there for, she just snorts indelicately behind her clipboard and points him down a hall of exam rooms with a tilt of her head and says, “Last door on the left.”

Bucky weaves his way through the bustling doctors and nurses and patients, each step towards Steve and his latest disaster growing heavier and heavier, his scowl digging deeper and deeper.

“Buck!” Steve exclaims with a grin as soon as Bucky stops to loom in the doorway, waving his splinted hand from his perch on the exam room’s rolling stool. “Hey, perfect timing!”

Bucky rushes forward to give Steve a thorough look over even as he’s cataloguing the obvious–-sprained wrist; bruising all up his arm to where his t-shirt’s hiding the rest; cut on his forehead that can’t be too deep, only required a couple of butterflies; and Steve must’ve been coming back from class when he got wrapped up in whatever it was this time, because while Bucky’s sure there’s got to be blood _somewhere_ on his clothes, it’s impossible to distinguish from all the multi-colored paint splatters.

“I swear to God, Stevie–-” Bucky groans out, way past exasperated and coming up on down right _aggrieved_.

“Aw, come on!” Steve protests, knocking his way free of Bucky’s grasp. “I didn’t even start it this time!”

“Doesn’t look like you finished it either, knucklehead.”

“Nah, Clint actually had it pretty well handled by the end there.” Steve’s grin is back, but it’s directed past Bucky, over at the bed.

“Clint?” Bucky asks with a confused blink, straightening up and glancing back over his shoulder.

There’s another tragic blond in the room, this one propped up on the bed with his right leg encased in a boot and looking a hell of a lot the worse for wear than Stevie managed. “Uh, hi?” the guy says hesitantly, one bandaged hand lifted up in some kind of approximation of a wave.

“Who the hell’re you?” Bucky demands as his scowl makes a reappearance because he’s already been saddled with one disaster magnet in his life, and he doesn’t much think he’s got the sanity to spare for another one.

The guy looks back and forth between Bucky and Steve anxiously. “I’m Clint?”

“Clint, Bucky. Bucky, Clint.” Steve steps in with the introductions, eyes alight with that familiar air of _plots_ that Bucky has no interest getting pulled into. “I was just passing by, you know? When I happened to see Clint here going at it with some thugs in that alley behind the diner–”

“And you couldn’ta just called the cops, _why_?”

“It was four on one!” Steve insists incredulously. “I had to help him out!”

Bucky levels Steve with the very judgiest glare in his repertoire because Steve has never in his life been big enough to _help_ someone getting the shit beat out of them unless it was to run his mouth to the point where he ended up taking their place.

“Oh, hey, you brought your truck right?” Steve asks suddenly with an innocuous smile. Bucky is instantly suspicious. “‘Cause we actually stopped at the vet first, ‘cause Lucky was in way worse shape than us, but he should be outta surgery by now!”

“Who the hell is _Lucky_?” Bucky wails.

“He’s, uh…” Shockingly, Clint’s the one that breaks in then. “Those guys, they were messing with this dog that hangs around for scraps sometimes–-and he’s the sweetest golden lab you’ll ever meet, swear down! Not that all dogs aren’t sweethearts, but this one especially. But they took his food and kept teasing him with it, then shoving him away when he got close, and I couldn’t just let that go, you know? So I stepped in to tell ‘em to quit it. Which is, uh, how I ended up–” Clint gestures down at the boot and braces and bandages that encompass the majority of his whole person.

“Lucky helped though!” Steve continues with a pleased-as-punch grin. “Soon as he saw Clint here was outnumbered, he jumped right on in the fray too! That’s when I showed up.”

 _Sweet lord_ , Bucky thinks, head tipping back to stare unseeingly up at the bright fluorescents overhead. _How are there_ _three of them!?_

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr at [promptmewinterhawk](http://promptmewinterhawk.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
